Trashy Magazines
by Itaweasel-hime
Summary: Ten/Rose. The Doctor is tired of Rose hiding away in her room. Naturally, he goes to figure out why she refuses to see him. One-shot.


Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.

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He was beginning to pick up on a pattern. Back when he had a daft face and leather jacket, he really hadn't cared too much. Of course, at the time, he had never bothered Rose when she was in the privacy of her quarters. He always waited for her to emerge before going places, maybe because he was afraid of her leaving. It wouldn't do to seem too pushy, back then.

He wasn't sure what it was about this regeneration that made him so impatient, especially when it came to Rose. He wanted to be with her near-constantly, even if it wasn't necessarily convenient-especially when it wasn't convenient. It was inexplicable.

The Doctor hated it, hated how much he wanted to be close to her at every moment in time, but not enough to actual change anything. Which really conflicted with that _one _day a month that she absolutely refused to leave her room, or worse still, refused to let him in. It simply baffled him.

And yet, once again, even though he should have known better by now, he stood outside her door, knuckles hovering over the wood. He was hesitating. He could already guess how this would end. Badly. Just as it had the month previous, and the month previous to that. The Doctor still felt that he had no choice. He rapped lightly on the door.

"Rose, are you in there?"

He was certain that he heard a pained moan, followed by a grumble for him to _go away._

The Doctor swallowed. "Are you alright? Do you need anything?"

There was no response. He tried the door knob, only to have it rattle in his hand. It was locked. He knew Rose never locked her door. Was the TARDIS interfering? He felt strangely ganged up on. Usually, at this point, he would have slumped back to the console room to tinker for a few hours, muttering to himself the entire time. But he was done with this monthly ordeal. For once, he wanted to get to the bottom of something.

He whipped out the sonic screwdriver, only to find there was no use. It was dead-lock sealed. The TARDIS was definitely interfering.

_"Seriously?" _he hissed under his breath, glaring up at the ceiling. "Rose, just let me in. I'm sure I can help somehow, I _am _called the Doctor for a reason, you know-"

The door flew open. She stood there, still in sleepwear, hair a mess, circles under her eyes, and she was angry. More than angry, she was _livid. _He actually took a step back. The Oncoming Storm had nothing on her level of fury.

"What are you doing, mucking about outside my room?" She asked deliberately. The Doctor thought she might have been less terrifying if she had actually yelled at him instead.

He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "I really just want to help, Rose. I'm sure whatever ails you is not beyond my knowledge-"

"Are you thick?" She interrupted, voice rising.

He blinked, taken by surprise.

"I'm pretty sure that unless you have woman parts down there," she snapped, gesturing roughly towards his crotch, "you really can't understand."

"Ah."

He felt his cheeks warm. _Of course. _How stupid was he? He really should have connected the dots sooner, considering it all. Once a month she went into hiding, had a horrible mood, and he was an _idiot. _Here, he had been fretting, thinking there was some big secret that she had been keeping, or that she didn't want to be around him anymore. And all along, it had just-

He felt strangely relieved, and a smile must have crossed his face because next he knew, he was being yelled at.

"Great! You've had your fun now, yeah? It's hilarious, isn't it? Wanted to brag about that superior biology of yours, I bet. Now, leave this disgusting, stupid ape to her menstrual cramps and bad hair, and maybe I won't chop off your alien bits for being such a _typical _man!"

He managed to catch her door before she could fling it shut. "Rose, I wasn't laughing at you...I was just glad to know what was going on, after all this time." the Doctor sighed, "Because apparently, I'm too daft to figure it out on my own, and I was really worried I had done something wrong."

"Oh," she breathed. "No," she said, stepping backwards until the back of her knees hit the bed and she slumped down on the unkempt pile of sheets and pillows and quilts, "I'm sorry."

He shook his head, shoulders slouched slightly as he stuffed his fists into his trouser pockets. "I'm too nosy for my own good."

"Well, yeah," she agreed, biting her lip, grinning slightly when an eyebrow rose delicately on his forehead.

"Really now," he drawled teasingly, feeling confident enough then to enter the room fully. Confident enough to give her a little bit of a hard time. "Rose Tyler, do you seriously think that I'm a typical man?"

Her caught a glimpse of her blushing face, before she had thrown a pillow at his head.

"I'm taking that as a _yes," _he snickered, giving her a scandalized look. The Doctor wriggled his eyebrows then, making her laugh. He was good at that, he knew.

_"No," _she told him firmly, before telling him, "I really am sorry. I sort of turn into a monster every month...especially during the first day or two."

"So, you put yourself into seclusion during the beginning of menstruation because you didn't think I could handle a bit of rudeness?" He gave her a look. "I'm nothing but rude, remember? Rude and not ginger."

She rolled her eyes, not protesting when he took a seat beside her. "It's not just about you, you know," she informed him. "I spend most of the day curled up in bed. It isn't exactly the most pleasant of experiences."

He glanced at her bedside table then, taking note of the pile of soiled tissues. With no sniffling nose, he could only assume they had been used on tears. And he felt guilty, for all that time she spent alone, _miserable,_ while he moped in the console room. What made it worse was he knew there was nothing he could do to protect her from this, it was simply a part of her bodily functions, unpleasant as it was.

"Let me do something," he said.

She stared at him.

"No, really," the Doctor told her, "I want to do _something."_

That was how he found himself, fifteen minutes later, standing at the register in a convenience store with a box of tampons, some raspberry tea, a bottle of ibuprofen, and a trashy magazine on the belt. He knew just how trashy it was, too-he had flipped through it quickly, before shutting it in embarrassment. Humans! So preoccupied with...

...Wait. Why did Rose need to know fifty ways to drive a man crazy?

fin

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AN: I can't be the only one who hates being a girl that time of the month. _Fuck _periods, seriously.


End file.
